Dark O'Clock In The Morning
by Eavis
Summary: Contains awkward Derek and Stiles interaction post S1. Begins mostly canon, but consecutive stories in this series (It's A Pack Thing) will be completely AU.


It was in the dogwatch of the night, ironically enough, that a shadowy form made its swift way through the streets and into the sheriff's yard. It paused for a moment, looking almost as if it were sniffing the air, then circled to the rear of the house and in one smooth leap, jumped to the eave by the second floor window. A dim light still shone there and soft humming emanated from the slightly cracked window. The boy inside was sitting hunched at his desk, papers and various junk foods spread over the surface in front of him. There were ear buds in his ears and as he worked he was tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song was playing. The music prevented him from hearing the window easing farther open and the figure slip quietly inside.

It wasn't until a voice said, "Stiles." that he came out of his chair, flailing backwards. "Holy heart attack, Batman! Derek, what are you doing here?"

The newly minted alpha ignored the question, glowering down at the human. "You should close your window at night. And get some stronger locks."

"O-kay," Stiles said slowly, head tilted in bewilderment, "I'll keep that in mind. Get new locks on the window so freakishly strong werewolf types don't break into my room at night and give me heart attacks with their creepy lurking. Dude, why are you here? Shouldn't you be out howling at the moon or doing other werewolfy things or, I don't know, maybe _apologizing to Scott for taking away his chance for a cure_ instead of standing around in my _bedroom_ like a disturbingly creepy stalker person? What is it with your family and lurking anyway? Your creepy uncle was pretty much up there with, like, the Joker, and you –"

"It wasn't a cure."

"- are shooting up the list like – sorry, what did you say?"

Derek shifted, folding his arms across his chest in a manner that for once looked more defensive than menacing. "It wasn't a cure. I told Scott that so he'd help me find the alpha."

Stiles' mouth hung open for a minute before he exploded, coming out of his seat and punctuating his words with Stiles Stilinski-patented gesticulations. "You just lied to him about something like that? Dude, that is so far up on the not-cool list it's not even funny. So what was your plan? Tell Scott there was a cure, get all buddy-buddy with him and then once you'd killed creepy uncle Peter, he'd magically forget you took away what he thought was his chance of being with Allison and join your pack or something? Wait, is magic a thing that exists? Oh my gosh, what about vampires? Is Beacon Hills the new Twilight Zone? Wow, two references at once, not bad for –"

"Stiles, shut up." Derek had been looking more and more uncomfortable the longer this torrent of words went on.

Stiles' mouth snapped shut abruptly, then opened again. "Okay, dude, seriously, what is going on? Do you need me to help you with something? Why did you even tell me you lied to my best friend and _why are you in my room at dark o'clock in the morning?_"

"Maybe if you could _shut up_ for longer than two seconds I could tell you," Derek snapped in a rumbling-just-this-side-of-a-growl tone.

Stiles exaggeratedly mimed zipping his lips shut and then ruined the metaphor by stuffing a handful of chips from the bag on his desk into his mouth.

"Yes, I lied about the cure, but would you have rather had Scott running around being the Alpha's personal Black Widow?"

"Well of course no- hey, you totally just made a comics references! Dude! You are like, the biggest fake out ever. I am never falling for the broody Sourwolf act again because you are totally a closet geek and who would win in a fight between Panther and Wolverine? Holy – and you called Scott a girl. Admittedly Widow's a pretty kicka-"

"Stiles!"

"-right, right, rampaging Scott not a good thing, got it. So why are you telling me this, again?" Stiles oh-so-casually rolled his desk chair back so his sturdy ally Johan the baseball bat was in reach. Not that it would do him much good against an annoyed or enraged alpha, but it at least made him feel like he had some means of defense in case Derek decided he couldn't afford to have anyone know about his secret geek status and ripped out Stiles' throat. With his teeth.

"Because you're his best friend."

"Scott's?" Stiles asked, because, hey, clarification is your friend.

"No, the Easter Bunny's. Yes, Scott!"

"Okay, okay, geez. Did you just make a joke? Because that's some serious progress, man! Aaand now you're back to looking like you want to rip my face off. All right, let's see if I've got this. Old Alpha dead. Derek new alpha. Alpha need pack. Derek pissed off Scott by killing old alpha and now Scott is being little sulky werewolf and Derek is all alone and needs awesome friend Stiles to coerce Scott into joining Sourwolf's pack. Did I miss anything?"

Derek shifted again, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing to the side for a brief moment before looking back at Stiles, his face somehow more vulnerable than before. "Look, Scott needs to join my pack. Not just because it makes me stronger, but because he'll get killed if he doesn't. Argent isn't exactly the most tolerant father around, and even if he decides not to kill Scott right now, the next time Scott does something stupid with the Argent girl, he'll be shot. I can teach him control."

Stiles was silent for a minute, then blurted, "What about Lydia? Your creepy uncle Peter bit her, remember, and now she's in a coma. The doctors don't know anything – can't say when she'll wake up."

Derek hesitated a second, then said, "If the bite took, I'll help her too. I promise."

There was an awkward silence, and then into it fell the sound of a clock downstairs chiming three o'clock.

Stiles swiveled his chair around and busied himself with the papers on his desk. "Right, so I'll talk to Scott tomorrow and see if I can talk some sense into him. You go do whatever it is you alpha-types do although hopefully not the type of things Peter did because that would be very not good."

Derek glared. "There are other alphas besides Peter, you know."

"Wh-ell, yes, of course, I mean totally – actually, no, I really have very little idea how alphas and packs work. Like, you had an alpha, right? I mean, were you in a pack while you were wherever you were these past six years?"

"Laura and I were Pack. She was Alpha."

Stiles looked like someone had just told him his jeep was being confiscated for the local dog pound to use as a kennel. "Derek, I meant to tell you before – I mean, I never would have asked Scott to track the body if I'd known – I just – I'm sorry about your sister, and I'm sorry we accused you of killing her and I'm sorry we messed up your weird but awesome ritual and wow there is just no way to make that apology without sounding weird and a total jerk which I was but I really am sorry."

Derek's jaw had tightened while Stiles talked, but the only thing he said when Stiles finally stopped was, "Why are you still awake? It's 3 o'clock in the morning on a school night. You should be in bed."

Looking more than slightly flabbergasted, Stiles protested, "That's not any of your – dude, you're the one in my room at 3 o'clock in the morning. I am not going to sleep with you lurking in the corner. That's just weird. And wrong. And weirdly wrong. Not to mention creepy. And wrong."

"Why were you awake in the first place?"

Stiles elaborately folded his hands behind his head. "Pshht. You know. Homework. Research. Trying to find out why the girl I'm in love with is in a coma and how to help Scott not kill anyone and don't think I didn't notice what you were doing with the whole avoiding my apology thing." He hesitated, biting his lip. "I really meant it, you know. You already had enough going on – losing your family and all – without us accusing you of something like that and of being a murderer which was a stupid idea in the first place anyway. Would it help any if I rolled over and showed my belly?"

The corner of Derek's mouth twitched, but the wolf in him was slightly appeased by the human's averted eyes and submissive posture. The human side of him, however, _had_ been bitter over the boys' accusation and angry over the implication that he would kill his sister and desecrate her body and was fiercely against accepting any sort of apology, but there could be no doubt that Stiles was sincere and his posture was all correct for a pup asking for forgiveness for some stupid stunt he'd pulled and maybe just a little concession wouldn't…"I want to rip your throat out marginally less."

Stiles looked absurdly pleased at this statement and his heart rate slowed for all of two seconds before jerking back up to the slightly-quicker-than-normal rate it always had when Stiles was around werewolves other than Scott and especially Derek. "Wait. Does marginally mean like a two-inch margin or a two-foot one because that is kind of an important distinction here and –"

Derek shoved him against a wall. "-and right, margins are not something that needs to be discussed right now, got it, good _night_ but you are giving me bruises and I am wearing a long-sleeved shirt tomorrow."

"Go to bed, Stiles." Derek let him go and moved to the window, throwing back over his shoulder, "and get some better locks."


End file.
